Not up to the sensual level of your image, but I thought about Paul Blackburn's poem, "Listening to Sonny Rollins at the Five Spot":
THERE WILL be many other nights like
be standing here with someone, some
one
someone
some-one
some
some
some
some
some
some
one
there will be other songs
a-nother fall, another spring, but
there will never be a-noth, noth
anoth
noth
anoth-er
noth-er
noth-er
Other lips that I may kiss,
but they won’t thrill me like
thrill me like
like yours
used to
dream a million dreams
but how can they come
when there
never be
a-noth
And not the Vanguard or the Five Spot, but: